Full Disclosure

This past fall, I got to see Bebe Neuwirth and Nathan Lane on Broadway in the new musical version of "The Addams Family."  Of course, they were both brilliant.  As for the musicall, it was an enjoyable trifle.  Despite less than gushing reviews, the show is still a fun experience.

What does it have to do with this week's theme of confession?  Well, the act one finale is a song called "Full Disclosure."  It is described as an ancient Addams tradition for everyone at dinner to sip from a sacred chalice and confess something they've never told anyone.  Thanks to a mix-up, the stories lead to scandal and chaos in the household.

The show allows audience members to write down their own full disclosures, and some of the best appear on their website.  They range from extremely silly to the occasional profound thought.  A similar need to confess plays itself out in everything from cop shows to anonymous Internet comments.  Sharing our thoughts can bring us closer to each other, just as confession brings us closer to God.

It brings to mind one of my favorite poems, one that I memorized in high school.  It reminds us how important it is to confess our feelings, especially of course, words of love:

We are spendthirfts with words,
We squander them,
Toss them like pennies in the air -
Arrogant words,
Angry words,
Cruel words,
Comradely words,
Shy words tiptoeing from mouth to ear.
But the slowly wrought words of love
And the thunderous words of heartbreak -
These we hoard.

Mary and Martha

Having worked within as many community theatre organizations as I have, you can safely assume that I've performed, directed, played piano for, or just generally been a part of all of the popular musical chestnuts. A list of such shows would definitely include "Nunsense" - the ongoing saga of five nuns and their work to maintain their small convent.

This week's sermon reminded me of one anecdote from the show. One character asks if you're more like Mary or Martha - do you play the piano or do you feel the need to dust it?

The story of those sisters can be a frustrating story for the hardest working members of any congregation. Don't we all want to recognized and rewarded for our good works? (Recovering Catholics in particular perhaps?)

But I personally hear the story as a reminder that we are meant to do work that we love, out of love. As always, it seems that children's Sunday school songs convey such a message most succinctly: We love, because God first loved us. Our love and service can take many forms - be it playing the piano or dusting it!

Transfiguration and Sondheim

I've been away from the blog for a couple of days, but plenty of ideas have been bouncing around the back of my mind. I've been thinking about Pastor's sermon from Transfiguration Sunday, in which he discussed the contrast between peak moments in life and the quotidian existence between them.

Musically, the church year certainly has an example of such a contrast. Between the peak celebrations of Christmas (or, if you'd prefer, Epiphany) and Easter we have a long valley of non-descript Sundays and the trudge through Lent. Even though there is some fantastic music during this time of year, they aren't tunes that the average person can sing in the same way as the songs of the major holidays.

It reminds me as well of the gaps between concerts or performances. Hearing the St. Olaf Choir or seeing a great Broadway musical can provide moments of beauty and musical epiphanies that sustain and provide inspiration for weeks and the next opportunity to hear such beauty again.

Living up to my motto that a showtune exists for every occasion, Stephen Sondheim wrote beautiful lyrics on this topic in the musical "Into the Woods." After a magical 'moment' and before returning home to her daily life, the Baker's Wife sings these words:

Oh if life were made of 'moments,'
Even now and then a bad one.
But if life were only 'moments,'
Then you'd never know you had one.
...
Must it all be either less or more;
Either plain or grand?
Is it always 'or'?
Is it never 'and'?
That's what woods are for!
For those moments in the woods.

Tom Hanks

If you read Sunday's Plain Dealer, you couldn't miss the flurry of coverage about Tom Hanks visit to town to help raise money for the Great Lakes Theater Festival. The music and theatre community in the Cleveland area is amazingly vibrant, and we're fortunate to have so many opportunities around us. My favorite quote from Hanks, though, was that he called the Hanna Theatre a place of "artistic worship."

Yes, theatres can be places of inspiration and worship (which is different, by the way, from saying that churches are places of theatre). Our faith should inform our lives, actions, thoughts, and attitude every day. We bring our lives back to worship on Sunday to share, to worship, to seek forgiveness, and to recharge for the week ahead.

Live life with Glee

In Terrence McNally's brilliant play Master Class, the character of Maria Callas refers to the theatre as "a sacred place." If you understand that sentiment, or if you just love rooting for the underdog and hearing some great music, you need to watch Glee on Wednesdays at 9:00 on Fox this season. (The show had a premiere this past spring to help capitalize on the popularity of American Idol, but the season just started this week. You can catch the rerun of the premiere on Friday night at 9:00.)

The show so perfectly captures the angst and earnestness of high school theatre and music geeks that you simultaneously squirm but can't look away. The cast is hugely talented - Matthew Morrison played Link Larkin in Hairspray on Broadway and Lea Michele played the role in the acclaimed show Spring Awakening. The music and the dancing are both superb and hillarious.

How is it related to church music? Well, to me (like McNally's version of Maria Callas), music and musical theatre are their own forms of worship. At its best, it can awaken your soul while it entertains. The show also reminds us to be kind to each other and to live life with glee - that sounds like the Gospel message to me.

Closed and fearful hearts

I fervently believe that there is a showtune for every occasion, and Pastor's sermon this past Sunday about "closed hearts" reminded me of a scene in "Miss Saigon." When the heroine (or perhaps anti-heroine given the tragic ending) of the story, Kim, finds out that her lover has remarried she sings, "I feel walls in my heart, closing in. I can't breathe. I can't win." Her belief in him and in love and in the American dream (the "movie in her mind") is shattered at that moment, and her broken and closed heart leads inevitably to tragedy.

At the heart of many of the world's problems is a stubborn, closed heart (and mind), because a closed heart leads to fear, anger, despair, and loneliness. Like Kim, we can suffer because our faith in other people can be destroyed, but true faith in God and prayer should never leave us suffering with closed hearts.

Similarly, much of the greatest music and art is about reopening our hearts to interact with the broader world. To close your eyes and lose yourself in a beautiful song, to take in deep breaths and relax, is to refresh yourself in a kind of meditative prayer. During these busy back-to-school weeks, I rely on music to help keep me connected to that supportive faith. I hope singing hymns in worship and listening to the preludes and postludes help perform a similar function for many of you so that you can act on Isaiah's injunction to be strong and have no fear.

New music

Church musicians often discuss the challenge of introducing new music to a congregation, and the worship and music committee is well aware of how often we do (or don't) sing every piece in the hymnal.

This week I was thinking about how contrary that is to our everyday lives. While everyone prefers some musical style to another, don't we all continue to seek out new musical experiences within those genres? Jazz musicians are always seeking the latest sound; the top 40 charts are new all the time; and musical theatre people search constantly for a new gem. This week, I found one in the new cast recording of "Next to Normal."

I mentioned the musical once before because of local-girl-made-good Alice Ripley's acceptance speech at the Tony Awards. The plot of the show is minimal: it's the story of a mentally ill woman's struggle with doctors, drugs, and treatments, as well as the strain it puts on her family and their troubled past. But its the character of this woman's daughter who has a beautiful song in Act I that describes perfectly the experience of being a musician (especially a teenage musician). It expresses the transcending nature of music, the power to lift our spirits, which is what makes it such a powerful part of any worship service:

Mozart was crazy.
But his music's not crazy,
It's balanced, it's nimble,
it's crystalline clear.

There's harmony logic,
You listen to these.
You don't hear his doubts,
Or his debts or disease.

You scan through the score,
And put fingers on keys,
And you play.
And everything else goes away.

And you play 'til it's perfect,
You play 'til you ache,
You play 'til the strings of your fingernails break.

And you know that it's just a sonata away,
And you play.
And everything else goes away.
Everything else goes away.

This summer we're asking ourselves what we believe by discussing the Creed. I'm a firm believer that if a sentiment or belief is worth expressing, you can find a musical theatre production that fits the occasion perfectly. The best theatre exists to show us the heart of humanity - what we share in thoughts, emotions, and beliefs. (That isn't to say the music belongs in a worship service, of course, just to mention that inspiration can take many forms!)

With the opening of the Creed in mind, I scrolled through my ipod selections and came up with just a smattering of thoughts. Sure it's a long list, but I could come up with dozens more, as I'm sure any of you could too with your own play lists. Hum along if you can, and make your own list of songs about beliefs and convictions. Let music from all possible sources inspire you every day. Leave a note about a song that rouses your spirit.

From Spring Awakening, the story of teenagers struggling through adolescence in a religiously repressive community:
"I believe there is love in heaven, and all will be forgiven."

From Hair, the ultimate protest statement of a generation:
"I belive in God, and I believe that God believes in Claude. That's me."

From Miss Saigon, a woman expresses her longing for her lover to return:
"I still believe you will return. I know you will. My heart against all odds holds still...As long as I can keep believing I'll live."

From Wicked, the musical that turns The Wizard of Oz on its head:
"I do believe my life is changed for the better. Because I knew you, my life is changed for good."

Last, from our old friends from a previous post, The Altar Boyz:
"One beam of light is enough to see where you're going.
One wrong turn is enough to lose your way.
One choice is all you have to make.
One ounce of faith could save the day.
I believe."

We are descended from a long, strong line of women

I'm an unabashed fan of theatre, especially musicals. There is so much raw power available to the universe of the stage, and the best songs and characters can speak directly to your soul through music. Some performances of plays and musicals through the years linger powerfully in my memory.

Among my recent favorites was closing night of the musical Dessa Rose, from the exceedingly talented Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens. I was lucky enough to be in the audience for their last performance, with the composers and other Broadway stars scattered throughout the audience. It was as close as I'll probably ever come to attending the Tony Awards, and one of the most powerful shows I've ever seen.

The musical is the story of two women, Ruth and Dessa Rose, who develop an incredibly strong but unlikely friendship during the Civil War. Ruth (Rachel York) is an abandoned wife and plantation owner, while Dessa Rose (LaChanze) is a slave. The show's concept is that these two women are nearing the end of their lives and are sharing the story of their youth with their own children. It's an oral family history set to music. They pass on the lessons of their struggles in the songs they sing. One of them prefaces her story by saying, "I hope you never will forget...we have paid for our children's place in this world; we have paid again and again."

It's Mothers' Day this Sunday, of course, a perfect chance to reflect on the strong women in our own lives and throughout the ages - from Eve to Mary Magdalene to Jane Austen to Susan B. Anthony to Sandra Day O'Connor to our own mothers. The words of the opening song from Dessa Rose remind us of the importance of history and our place in it:

We are descended
From a long, strong line of women.
And we are handing you down the story
Listen, child, to the story
Soon be yours to tell.